


Make You A Man

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine has heard a lot about what it means to be a man.</p>
<p>spoilers through 3x05 (“The First Time”)</p>
<p>An exercise in freewriting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You A Man

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Make You A Man -- Was Einen Mann Ausmacht](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593470) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



Blaine has heard a lot about what it means to be a man.

A man shows pride in himself by maintaining a neat appearance.

A man wears his tie tightly knotted at his collar in public, no matter how long the day.

A man knows how to smile, to shake hands, and to be polite even in the most unpleasant of situations. There is rarely a need for him to be rude to his peers or betters.

A man only takes the gloves off during an intense business deal or sports match, and when he does it the fighter he’s been hiding beneath the manners is ready to decimate the competition before being caged once more.

A man knows how to defend himself.

A man stands up for himself and holds his head high.

A man excels at everything he does and commands the respect of those around him.

A man doesn’t need to beg for attention, because people give it to him automatically.

A man is deferential to his wife or girlfriend when appropriate but is ultimately the one in charge of his life.

A man does the courting, makes the moves, and respectfully but firmly sets the pace of a relationship.

A man doesn’t need his wife more than she needs him.

A man knows how to hold his liquor.

A man knows how to hold his tongue.

A man is always in control of his emotions.

A man is always in control of his temper.

A man is always in control.

Blaine tries so hard to be a man, just like he tries to like fixing up a car with his father, just like he tries to like girls for so long, just like he fights against the fact that sometimes trying isn’t enough.

Even after he knows he’s gay, after fists and feet beat that truth into instead of out of him like they’d hoped, he still tries to be the man he’s supposed to be. He goes to Dalton, where he can wear a tie like his father every day and pretend he’s not hiding. He can pretend he’s just left behind the people who were beneath him at his old school. He can hold his head high and be the leader of men he was raised to be. He can pretend he can be this version of himself anywhere.

And when he is attracted to someone, he does what a man is supposed to do. He boldly courts Jeremiah, he makes the first move with Kurt (he can tell himself that if he ignores all of the little, gentle, incredibly brave moves Kurt made toward him first), he is respectful of Kurt’s boundaries until he slips and isn’t, and a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t feel as bad about what he says in the parking lot as he does, because a man is supposed to be the one pushing. The shame of his actions shouldn’t sit bitter and hard in his stomach, even after Kurt forgives him.

(But it still does. He wonders if it’ll ever go away.)

Kurt is an enigma to Blaine sometimes, partially because Blaine knows Kurt is smarter and more creative than he is and has no idea how Kurt comes up with the ideas he does, but partially because his viewpoint is so different. Blaine realizes it early on in their friendship, when Kurt is showing him pictures of his friends on his phone and laughs at an image of himself in pajamas and a mud mask posing next to Rachel and Mercedes, similarly dressed and masked, and says something about being one of the girls.

“You’re not a girl, Kurt,” Blaine says to him, a thick tendril of fury curling in his stomach. He’s not sure who he’s angry at, but he is. Kurt shouldn’t be saying that about himself.

“Well, no.” Kurt shrugs. “But it’s close enough.”

Blaine drops the subject, closes off the anger and shoves it away, because he needs a friend like Kurt so much that he can’t let himself hold onto it, but it comes up again and again. Kurt shows up at the Lima Bean one Saturday wearing a fabulous sweater that he mentions is from Rag & Bone’s women’s collection. On one late night phone call when they’re both so sleepy they can’t even find the energy to hang up, Kurt says something wistful about finding his Prince Charming someday. When they start dating, Finn gives Blaine an awkward pat on the shoulder and says something about Kurt having a brother and friends who love him, which is probably supposed to be a warning.

And Blaine realizes Kurt’s had a very different message whispered in his ear, not necessarily from his dad but from everyone else: Kurt is weak. Kurt isn’t the dominant one in a relationship. Kurt will be courted instead of courting. Kurt will cook and care about clothing, not because his talents lie in those directions but because that’s what women do. Even though he’s not one.

(“It’s close enough.”)

The funny thing is that Kurt mostly doesn’t seem to care. He asks Blaine to prom. He lets Blaine plan dates and make public declarations while he sits back and smiles. He pushes Blaine back against his car door and kisses him until they’re both breathless and aching. He wears a Chanel scarf or a Westwood tie around his neck as it suits him.

It throws Blaine off, even as it entrances him. Blaine knows what he’s supposed to do as a man, and he sure doesn’t want Kurt to be a woman. He wants Kurt to be _Kurt_. But it’s hard to follow the script he’s had laid out for him his whole life when his partner doesn’t conform to the other half. It’s hard to be the dominant one when Kurt feels so good pressing him down into the couch cushions, his mouth hot on Blaine’s throat. It’s hard to be the one courting when Kurt organizes the Warblers to show up at the theme park one sultry summer night to serenade him after his evening performance or brings him flowers to celebrate him getting a part that should have been Kurt’s own. It’s hard to be in control of his emotions when Kurt whispers his love into Blaine’s ears, his hair, his mouth, his skin. It’s hard not to be needy when Kurt makes Blaine heart crack open and threaten to pour out all of his secrets.

It’s terrifying. It leads to a few crazy outfit choices, more than one serenade, and a lot of very deliberate not-thinking. Blaine _knows_ what he’s supposed to do.

The problem is that with Kurt it isn’t terrifying at all not to do any of it. It isn’t terrifying to tell Kurt how much he loves him. It isn’t terrifying to change schools to be with him. It isn’t terrifying to let Kurt decide their plans for the next month or the next decade or bring up difficult subjects men were supposed to avoid talking about.

When he’s with Kurt, when he’s stretched out on his bed with him that first night together and every time afterward, it’s so simple. He knows how he’s supposed to be a man there, too; he knows everyone is sure of what their roles must be (except maybe Santana, but he’s learned not to think too much about what she assumes about them). He knows he’s not supposed to be the one on his knees nearly coming just from the feel of Kurt’s cock in his mouth. He knows he’s not supposed to be the one shaking and clutching at the pillow as Kurt’s fingers work so slick and careful inside of him. He knows he’s not supposed to be the one who begs for more, harder, deeper, faster with his voice so thick with need it’s all but unrecognizable when Kurt holds him close and fucks into him until they’re both crazed with it.

Kurt’s the one who can match Rachel’s range. He’s the one who wears kilts and ponchos and cares so passionately about exfoliation. He’s the one who would rather sit with the girls and gossip than go play a quick game of basketball with the guys.

Blaine’s the one who can play a mean game of dodge ball, who can make girls’ knees melt with his singing, who dresses in Brooks Brothers’ best.

And yet Blaine’s the one who wants to throw himself at Kurt’s feet. He’s the one who wonders what he’s done wrong when Kurt’s late to call at night. He’s the one whose heart leaps into his throat when he sees Kurt walking down the hall toward him before homeroom in the morning. He’s the one who can barely breathe when he’s straddling Kurt’s lap on the couch and Kurt looks up at him with so much love and desire in his eyes that Blaine has to kiss him again and again to keep from begging him never to stop looking at him that way because he can’t live without it.

But then he can’t always keep his anger leashed, either. He can’t always be the better man. He can’t always get the respect he wants or stand up for himself when he should. He can’t always be in control of himself, no matter how hard he tries. He just can’t.

Blaine’s never going to be the man his father wants him to be. He’s probably never even going to be the man _he_ wants to be.

But maybe, just maybe, he thinks when Kurt looks up and shoots him a private smile from under his lashes during Glee rehearsal, he can be the man _Kurt_ wants him to be.

As he smiles back and tries to hide the way his heart pounds in his chest, he thinks with no little wonder and a tiny bit of fear that that could be even better.


End file.
